


Backseat Trick or Treating

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Category: Original Work
Genre: Candy Trade offs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Halloween Costumes, Halloween Spirit, Human/Monster Romance, Monster Boyfriend, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Rough Oral Sex, Shotgunning, Smoking, Teratophilia, Tongue Fucking, original monster boyfriend, pumpkin monster, smoking weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Summary: Edgar the Pumpkin King loves hard candies, smoking weed and eating pussy. Thank fuck he's found a girl who's down to do all three.Anon #1 asked: Ughhh I love our boi Edgar~ I even had a dream about him last night and damn dude. Long story short we were hotboxing in the back of a car and he eat me out in exchange for some candy I'd given him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Thanks Brim xoAnon #2 asked: I recently asked for a Eugene post but I don't know if I specified your vampyre oc boi Eugene. Also if you wanna write some messy smut for ya pumpkinboi Edgar, I would be very excited to read it <3A/N: Soo... yeah, I've been MIA for a few weeks and this is what I chose to write. Have fun everyone! And for those that wanna see Edgar the Pumpkin King, check out this link here...http://brimbrimbrimbrim.tumblr.com/post/177314929016/im-not-ready-for-halloween-you-are-say-hi-to





	Backseat Trick or Treating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



It’s just one little joint you tell yourself, just a token treat to finish off the craze of Halloween and the belly ache that’s soon to come from all the chocolates and glutinous, sweet candy. A few more puffs and you’ll walk on home because if you know one thing, it’s that Edgar - the pumpkin man with a mouthful of teeth decorated in one of those lazy, high grins - is bad news. 

By now, the backseat of his bitchin’ Camaro looks like it's been prey to a fog machine blast. 

A roguish Halloween spirit, or possessed pumpkin fiend or whatever he mints himself as is a bad influence and if the rumors are true… he’s a bit of a rascal as well. You’re above the charm though, and there’s no amount of sordid smirks and vine flicks - with the velvety leaves against your neck - that’s going to change that. He can leer and suck down weed in ways that make his skinny chlorochrous-green chest billow all he wants, you won’t be tempted. 

“Ahh, but the temptation is so sweet, my dear,” he says; bleeding pot smoke through carved teeth as his eyes ignite like a stoked flame. 

“... was I thinking aloud again?”

His orange grin curls further, stretching the soft rind of fleshy pumpkin-like skin until you're letting him shoot the rest of his second-hand smoke between your parted lips; tickling vines against your cheek and temple.

“Noisy thinking is just talking, and you’re… plenty talkative,” he hums.

One moan from your relaxed lips is all Edgar wants to hear. He lifts the smoking joint to your lips until your eyes feel heavy and everything is heated and purring, and you're inhaling lungfuls of weed like its oxygen.

The backseat grows further obscured by smoke, and though Edgar keeps his distance, it’s you that closes it. You’ve been higher than this and never thought about all the wayward, naughty things you’re considering now. Never once have you wanted a literal monster man to… to…

“You want some hard candy, Edgar?”

His smile reaches higher. Those longspun, grassy fingers draw the joint from the edge of your lips and with a hard drag, finishes it off before replying excitedly, “Might I interest you in an… exchange of sorts? All offers are above board, so to speak.”

“As long as you're not some demon in disguise, lay it on me,” you quip back, smirking as sharp as you can even though you’ll never manage a leer as tall as his. 

Edgar lets the thick, wet-looking smoke unfurl between his titian-colored teeth and rubs the smoldering roach out between sharp, brackish-green fingers; like spider legs. He’s terrifying to behold but positively sensual looking as he hooks a long finger in the plastic skull bucket between the both of you. There are empty chocolate wrappers and half-eaten taffy, but it’s the hard candies he fingers with a smirk. 

You watch him unravel one bright blue marble of sugar. Those dull looking teeth ravage the hard sweet until the wet shards are lapped down by a hidden… moistened tongue. 

“Holy shit,” you think, realizing it’s more 'noisy thinking' you’re doing because Edgar leans in, flicks a sugar-coated tongue beneath your chin and rumbles.

“Happy Halloween...” 

It’s the only egotistical warning you receive before those spindly claws wrap around your thighs, drag you towards him and lay you prone with one fluid movement. All your bonbons tumble onto the floor of the backseat - all your young-adult antics paved in a rainbow of color across the floor. The vapors cloud him in varnish, but it’s the smog in the cab that makes his carved eyes glow like high-end torches; yellowish and pulsing like a real-life jack-o-lantern. 

He opens your thighs, and despite the clinch of weed around your head, you understand what’s to come before he’s pushing your tattered ghost-dress over your knees and thighs, folding the fake-bloodied cotton around your waist. You lift your hips and arch your spine as though he’s going to pull your underwear down, but he’s an impatient pumpkin man, so the material is raised and stretched away from your dripping folds.

"Rarest of candy," he compliments savagely; inhaling your moisture. 

Edgar expunges breaths the temperature of smoking charcoal briquettes, and says lazily, “Salted taffy, sweet gushers, and savory snacks… I’ll eat you whole, and you never need to pay me back.”

A half-giggle - high and senseless - flows out your lips but his initial taste takes the air from of your lungs. 

His tongue is glutinous and hot against your cunt. Every swipe leaves gooey trails of lingering warmth behind which has the added effect of stimulating everything he tastes long after he’s moved on for something untouched; untasted. 

Edgar extends his tongue until you can see the purple and pink bumps dotting it like fat taste buds. He wiggles the long, sticky appendage through your inner lips, taking humming satisfaction in your speechless moans before flicking the nerves around your opening.

“... w’wait,” you blink and lift up on your elbows, looking between your spread legs while Edgar’s tongue is frozen mid-thrust. His sculpted eyes rise in question, looking oddly… cute? Concern furrows the pumpkin-colored hide for a moment before you open a thigh wider and nod for him to continue; teeth hooked in your bottom lip. 

This is crazy, and you’ve never been this ‘easy’ but it’s Halloween, and he's supposed to be a god at eating pussy so-

“... bubble gum, balls!” You half-bellow and groan as Edgar growls playfully and slides his tongue within. You think about sentient earthworms or snakes with a thing for pussy since his tongue is too long to be anything human… too dextrous to not have a mind of its own. The tapered tip coils like a lollipop swirl around your cervix before it oscillates inside your tight walls. 

He hisses smoking gushes and knots your cunt with a curled up tongue until tears spring in your eyes and you feel stress in your bladder, in your spine and lower belly. The muscles in your inner thighs tremble - quivering closed around his gourd-stiff head - until Edgar binds long spindly fingers around the creamy width and pushes it further open. 

His dense, trilateral teeth tease your mound as he draws the knotted tongue through your insides until it pops out the tight ring with an amusing wet sound. It makes you blush, but Edgar just chuckles and gently laps at your folds before pushing his flat, sloppy, sticky tongue under your clit. 

“... why are you so good at this?” You ask - lashes fluttering as damp bliss coats all the nerves in your lower abdomen. 

Actually, fuck that… you don’t wanna know…

“You don’t wanna know,” he garbles proudly, still grinning even though his tongue is only barely pushing out his mouth now. 

Bereft of sensation, you squirm downward, silently demanding more, but the single, light flick of his tongue is meant to taunt, not to ease. 

“Our trade, Edgar,” you remind him under your breath, “... I’ll even let you have the rest of my spoils.”

“Oh,” he huffs and cackles, dancing the tips of sharp, grassy fingers along your clothed belly, “our exchange was ‘all’ your spoils.”

You inhale a sharp moan as he dips down and engulfs you mound, cunt and the bottom curve of your ass in his mouth; tenderly fastening in only for his tongue to roughly coat, swirl, and tow across your folds and clit. It’s ravenous. It’s unforgiving. It’s… so worth whatever rules you’ve broken and candy you’ve lost tonight. 

“... fuck,” you sigh and wheeze his name even louder, following it by a hurried ‘fuck’ and another feeble sob. 

Edgar chuckles ominously - a sound that resonates in the metal chassis. Smoke circles around your vision. Your body feels at once weighted by the cosmos and stripped of all mass. There’s nothing but the furious, frenzied lapping and the proficient touch of Edgar’s tongue. 

Squirming and moaning, he trails his free hand up your ribs, teasing a hard nipple beneath the thin, gauzy dress until orgasmic impressions dent your wholly eaten cunt. Edgar clutches your thigh, pinches the breast that bounces in his spidery grip and tongue fucks you. He angles your hips forward, stuffing your clit over the flat front of his slippery teeth until your thrusting down on the hard, wet triangles. So much stimulation and it’s so… 

“... so good,” you whimper and lift your leg against the backseat, pushing a slippered heel into his back; bracing for the rush of your climax. 

Around his tongue, Edgar says something sultry and candied. You don’t bother decoding the slurring blather because your cumming and he’s filling, heating and fucking his tongue in and out - so swift and deep. Your clit grinds against his teeth, and he’s tweaking your nipple… and it’s all leading to this crescendo of satisfaction. 

“Oh’oh,” you struggle with frozen pleasure, “... oh, Edgar.”

You sound like any other young woman in the world experiencing such a mind-blowing orgasm. It’s hard to keep up the cool demeanor when you're so high, and he’s so good at this and your cumming so, so fucking hard. 

Phantom laughter echoes inside his smokey Camaro, vibrating you from the inside out. It feels infinite; never-ending. 

The orgasm lasts an obscene amount of time, but after what feels like minutes, you jerk upon his teeth and tense around his tongue, struggling to break free of his embrace. The pleasure grows too intense, but even after he lets you go, his departure - the purple spotted engorged tongue plopping out - forces you back against the seats, suffering from ecstasy. 

“Nothing more delicious than sweet… sweeeet pussy, my dear.” Edgar tells you with wet shards in his throat, appearing especially satisfied and wicked, “Keep your candy. Your cunt is better than all the jolly ranchers on All Hallows’ Eve.”

Despite your blush and his sugary talking, you grin with stoned fever and roll your eyes. 

“I get it…” you sigh with endorphins running around your bloodstream, “you say this to all the ladies?”

“Mmm," he smirks between your legs, positively glowing with pride, "I would... had I ever had the pleasure of snacking on a pussy as scrumptious as yours.”

It’s hard to not be won over by all the pillow talk. You’ve never been eaten out like that before, and it’s not even just the weed you’d both shared. Edgar, as legend would have it, knew how to make a girl feel exceptional. It’s a fun illusion, but you try not to get too wrapped up in his wooing. After all, after tonight he’ll forget about you and next year he’ll be sipping on some other girl’s cunt…

… or at least you tell yourself that until next Halloween when you’re another year older, sitting alone at the bus stop - halfway across the country - with a lollipop sticking out your mouth and lo and behold Edgar appears on the bench beside you. 

You startle and flush - recalling that fuck-awesome night in the back of his Camaro with the weed-smog and pussy munching. 

Grinning so wicked and wild with his vines blowing in the cinnamon-scented breeze, he lays an arm around the bench, behind your shoulders and bows in.

“Happy Halloween, my dear,” his smoldering lantern-eyes cut from the confection in your mouth to your lap then back to your wide eyes once more, “Care to trade?”

Halloween was never quite the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to everyone for reading and a big thanks to the Anons for showing interest in some Edgar smut. If you have time, please leave me a comment letting me know what worked and/or what didn't. <3
> 
> All typos are my own.
> 
>  
> 
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